


Come to the Dark Side!

by Darth_Videtur



Series: The Dark Side Club AU [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Darth Plagueis - James Luceno, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Assassins, Bartender Ventress, Black Markets, Cinnamon_Girl's picture did this!, College Student Padme, Criminal Underworld, F/M, I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good, I blame it all on Cinnamon_Girl, Jedi and Sith are competing strip clubs, M/M, Most Sith de-aged or up-aged to roughly the same age, Multi, Politics, Single-planet verse, Strangely enough this travesty might end up with a plot..., Stripper Plagueis, Stripper Sidious, Stripper Vader, Strippers & Strip Clubs, The Dark Side of the Force, crackfic, so they can all exist together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:08:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9137485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darth_Videtur/pseuds/Darth_Videtur
Summary: A college girl from another country, trying to survive on a scholarship to a prestigious university, gets caught up in the behind-the-scenes of an infamous club, The Dark Side. Between navigating politics and friends old and new, the intrepid Padme Amidala is in for a wild ride.





	1. Welcome to the Club

**Author's Note:**

> All right... so... how to explain this madness? xD  
> It all started when Cinnamon_Girl shared a picture with me, a certain picture to be found in the comments of my artwork collection... cough*go check it out*cough
> 
> Said picture spawned a crackfic in my head so ridiculous and outrageous that I had to start writing it. And of course draw a picture for it too... to compliment the picture from before. 
> 
> I don't know how far I'll get on this one, as its very much a wild AU, but I've been having fun writing it. It's set on a single planet where the planets are separate countries, and the Jedi and Sith are, at least on the surface, competing strip clubs out for a bit of economic rivalry in the Senate Precinct of the Nation of Coruscant. The technology is earth compatible, sort of futuristic, and the planet has spawned multiple sentient species, not just humans though they are predominant. 
> 
> Enjoy the madness! :D I'm tempted to gift this to Cinnamon_Girl...

Padmé Amidala giggled when her friend Mina Bonteri first suggested that they visit _that_ strip club.

 

The Dark Side. What a name! Everybody knew the Dark Side was a crazy place, located in the darkest corner of the Senate Precinct of Coruscant where even the cops steered clear. The Sith named themselves after an old religion that relied on passion and power to live, and Padmé heard rumors that once you had a Sith grinding on you, there was no going back.

 

No grinding for her tonight, she shook her head and told Mina she appreciated the joke.

 

She giggled more nervously when her friend insisted that no, this wasn’t a joke. “I have two tickets for tonight, and Mon cancelled on me. You’re going to take her place. We aren’t wasting a chance to get into the Dark Side!”

 

“Oh no, I’m not!” Padmé exclaimed, and found herself bundled into her dorm room to find an appropriate dress. She settled on a small, strapless, dark red number that hugged her curves in all the right places but wasn’t too flashy. Just a few frills around the legs. Naboo’s version of Coruscant’s little black dress. _I shouldn’t be doing this. I have studies, and flute practice, and student Senate tomorrow morning. Shiraya, even my hair is still damp from my shower, I’m so not a party girl._

The minute she stepped out into the hallway and locked her door, Mina hooked her arm and practically dragged her down to Mina’s flashy convertible without a chance to say another word. Padmé slowly reclined on the soft white leather and organized her thoughts as they flew down the road.

 

This was crazy! She’d only ever been to one strip club before. The Temple. The employees there called themselves Jedi Knights, how silly, and the club specialized in luxurious massages steeped in new age nonsense. Chakra points, center of being, all that.

 

She’d nearly turned around and walked out when the owner, a wizened little green sentient (she was still getting used to all the lifeforms that existed in this part of the planet), greeted her with a near toothless smile.

 

_Her roommate Mon Mothma introduced them. “This is Master Yoda. He’s the owner of the Temple.” She said with a straight face, “Not a stripper. Anymore.”_

_Yoda’s smile widened. “When 900 years old you are, strip for a living you would not either.”_

_He was joking, right? The age? And everything else? She hoped so…_

 

That was an image Padmé wished she could forget, but the whole visit hadn’t been a complete loss. She blushed at the memory of one muscular and auburn-haired Jedi who had turned her tense muscles into complete mush with just a few strokes of his talented hands. And that dashing smile.

 

That beard had been altogether too tempting, but back then she had her reputation to think about. As a young college student from another nation here on scholarship and hoping to be accepted into the Apprentice Legislator program, Padmé wanted to keep her nose squeaky clean. She remembered hurrying out of the temple before she succumbed to the “ways of the Force,” as Mon joked. 

 

That had been two years ago. Now she was a junior, and life was a lot more stable. Top of her class, excellent grades, a job on the side working for Dex’s Diner, and things were good. Padmé sighed; sheer boredom had put her in this car, heading south down the highway toward the wild side of town.

 

This was crazy!

 

Not only that, but the Dark Side was incredibly exclusive. There was a waiting list weeks in advance, and supposedly the bouncers were really strict. You couldn’t just walk in.

 

Padmé leaned in and shouted to Mina over the roar of the wind in her ears, “Is it true they scan you for recording devices?”

 

Mina grinned. “Oh yeah, they’ve caught me every time. Doesn’t mean I stop trying though.”

 

“Mina!”

 

“Joking, dear, I’m going without my trusty camera tonight for your sake.”

 

“Thanks,” she said, and shook the sarcasm away with an effort. She wasn’t really mad; after all, this was a sweet offer from Mina. Maybe she _had_ been too caught up in her work lately. Maybe she needed to relax, be a normal single girl with normal wandering eyes, take in a few new sights. Sights. She giggled again and muffled the sound against the back of her hand.

 

_Gods, I am so nervous about this._

 

She studied the surroundings when Mina turned off the main highway and entered the “other” side of town, where things went on that maybe people weren’t supposed to be doing. Bounty hunters, lowlifes, rare aliens, you name it, this part of Coruscant had it. Death sticks, raves, black market trading, spice. Padmé felt her upper lip curling. When she became a real Senator, all this would change someday.

 

Tonight, though, maybe tonight she could look the other way long enough to get to their destination.

 

“There it is!” Mina chirped, swinging the convertible around hard to pull into a nicely paved parking lot guarded by several hulking humanoids. Padmé smiled at them. _Please don’t crush me._ She looked up at the building, three levels and covered in sleek black paneling and rimmed in neon red lights that glowed almost ominously. Richly dressed men and women slipped in and out of the front entrance.

 

“Mina….”

 

“It’s amazing!” the older girl gushed as she pulled into an open spot and popped the doors. “Come on, chicken.”

 

_They’re nunas in Naboo, and I am not one,_ Padmé thought, indignant, and slid from her seat, pulling at the red frills of her dress to smooth it down. Thank Shiraya she’d chosen her sensible pumps with three inch heels, or she would have been teetering all over the slightly uneven surface as she hurried after her friend. “Not so fast, let me soak it in!”

 

Mina grinned like a nexu. “You’ll soak it all in, I promise.” She waited, reached back, and grabbed Padmé’s hand. “Now come on!”

 

_I have a bad feeling about this…._

Padmé allowed herself to be tugged to the entrance, where a massively tall Zabrak stood with thick arms crossed over a thicker chest. She shrank back against Mina instinctively, but her friend smiled up at the stoic face.

 

“Hi, Savage!”

 

White teeth shone in the yellow and black tattooed face in a sudden grin that looked no less menacing than the rest of him. “Miss Bonteri, did you make two appointments in the same month?”

 

Mina brightened. “Guilty as charged, you know I adore those big muscles of yours. And those giant horns.”

 

The chuckle that reverberated from his chest sounded more like a growl, but Savage accepted the outstretched tickets and motioned them inside. “Welcome to the Dark Side,” he told Padmé as she passed him. “Enjoy yourself.”

 

She blushed, squeaked out a soft thank you, wondered why she was there again, and followed Mina down the long, darkened hallway. She could hear throbbing, powerful music up ahead, music that seared straight through her and vibrated everything. _Shiraya, help!_ She clutched Mina’s hand a little tighter.

The Temple had played soft music, flutes and plucked strings and sensually slow caresses of sound. Like making love. This… this was like – she turned red – like fucking. She didn’t have a whole lot of experience with it, Clovis came the closest to the raw turn-ons she read about in the hardcore romance novels, but that idiot was out of her hair now. Even off the campus after their nasty break-up.  

 

Mina leaned closer and whispered, “You aren’t thinking about Rush, are you?”

 

“Of course not,” Padmé lied through gritted teeth. “Mina… I don’t know about this…”

 

“Oh, let your hair down, you stiff Naboo,” the older girl chuckled and poked her with her free hand. “Once you get in there, you’re gonna forget you ever wanted to be anywhere else.”

 

She was almost right. When they rounded the corner, passed through the scanners, and stood in the entrance to the main exhibit room, Padmé struggled to find her voice. The interior smoked with the strands of death sticks, filled with dozens of bodies lounging in nearly every available chair and low laughter and conversations. Padmé saw the drinks bar on the far left, and she stopped, fascinated. Someone had gone to a LOT of effort to create the sensation of flowing lava on the bar’s long, thin surface, where it wrapped around a circular display of the best drinks Coruscant had to offer. Behind the counter, a pale woman with start facial tattoos tended the requests of her many patrons. Padmé stared. She wasn’t conventionally beautiful, but there was something about her that demanded attention.

 

Padmé noticed the hardness in those eyes and shivered.

 

Mina nudged her. “Good, we got here between shows.”

 

Padmé looked up at the stage, solidly built and large enough to accommodate up to a dozen dancers. A sleek design, futuristic and clean and, like Mina said, completely empty. She swallowed the brief disappointment and turned to follow Mina through the winding path to their assigned table. It sat near the front and center, oh Force, and she felt the flutter of butterbugs in her belly again.

 

_I should go home right now._

_Stay._

She twisted to look behind her. No one paid her any attention. It must have been her imagination, flighty and jumpy in a new place. The shadows and music were getting to her. _Come on, Padmé, you’re better than this. Buck up._

Mina flopped cheerfully like a loth cat into her chair and waved the waiter over for drinks. Padmé blushed all the way down to her toes. The waiter wore some sort of undefined, military-style uniform, but large chunks of cloth were strategically missing from the torso and arms. She pinned her gaze on the knee-high boots and refused to look up to even identify the man.

 

“What’ll it be, ladies?” he purred.

 

Mina glanced at Padmé. “Two of your best Jogun fruit cocktails, I think. Who’s working tonight, Brendol?”

 

The man – Brendol – shifted his weight to the other leg and laughed. “You’ll be happy. We’ve got the Plague tonight, the Assassin, even the King is out.”

 

Mina patted Padmé’s arm. “Ooh, the King! What about the Droid?”

 

“They’ve got a number later tonight. It’s a new one. I think you’ll like it.”

 

Her friend smiled broadly. “I’m counting on it.” When the waiter turned and walked away, swaying hips on full display, Mina followed him with her gaze while she spoke to Padmé. “You’ll like the King. I think he’s from Naboo, like you. The accents sound similar.”

 

_From Naboo? What self-respecting Naboo worked in a strip club in the dark side of Coruscant's Senate Precinct?_

Padmé discovered a new well of curiosity in herself, and nervousness. As soon as the waiter returned with the drinks, she took several swallows.

 

This could get very interesting.

 

When the announcer’s young, deep voice boomed over the loudspeakers, Padmé nearly jumped out of her skin. She set the wine glass down before she dropped it. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to ‘Taken by the Darkness,’ brought to you by our very own Plague and King!”

 

Very interesting, for sure.


	2. Act 1 - "Taken by the Darkness"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padme experiences the first of her 'shows' at the Dark Side Club. She isn't quite ready for all it entails...

The patrons of the club began to grow quieter, hundreds of eyes turning to the darkened stage in anticipation. A tall, grey bearded human toward the back of the room disappeared through a side door, waving to a black and red tattooed Zabrak to follow him.

 

Padmé watched them go and nervously wondered what to do with her hands. Fidget. No, not good. Sit still. Impossible. Oh... 

 

“Our tale begins with a young man’s journey into Darkness,” the announcer crooned. “Hoping for a chance to make his mark in the wider world.”

 

One corner of the stage lit up, revealing a figure cloaked and hooded in ornate robes that reminded Padmé too much of Naboo. This dancer wasn’t built like the Jedi warriors at the Temple, she could tell by how thin he was, even in draped cloth. He took several halting, uncertain steps forward, slowly drawing his hood down to reveal a young face, unconventionally striking, with a prominent nose and cleft in his chin. He looked to be in his mid to late twenties, still too far away to make out his eye color.

 

She squinted eagerly, and then chastised herself. The most striking thing about him was his hair, long and down past his shoulders in a loose tail, and bright red. 

 

Mina clapped excitedly and then whispered, “That’s the King! Oh, I wanna lick him like a sucker!”

 

_Are you already drunk?_ Padmé looked worriedly at her friend, but the announcer was speaking again. 

 

“Recently a boy, barely a man, from a backwater place and no idea of the monster inside him, waiting to be unleashed…by the Sith!”

 

Lights flashed, the audience shouted, and another dancer arrived on the stage. This one was tall, too tall to be human, stretching up and away and as lean or leaner than the human. Padmé swallowed. This was new. He was a Muun, if she didn’t have her species crossed. The humanoid strode forward across the stage in sweeping black robes, spindly hand extended as though to grab the smaller dancer.

 

Padmé’s breath caught in her throat. _Get away!_

 

At the last moment, the King ducked and spun free, but the Muun caught the hood in his grasping fingers, and it pulled free of the human’s body along with the outer layer of deep green robes. The Muun looked down, laughed, and then shrugged free of his own black robes, exposing a pale and long torso and deep black trousers and boots, a long lightsaber hanging on his belt that he ran the tips of his fingers over in a highly suggestive manner.

 

Someone cat-called. Padmé blushed when she felt the warm tingle in her toes. Her first strip tease. _It’s just an act. It’s meant to turn you on. Oh Shiraya, it’s working! Help! Breathe. Just breathe._

 

The King backed away from the Plague, until he cornered himself against one of the tall dancing poles on the left of the stage. The Muun approached swiftly, seizing the cool metal bar over the human’s head and bending down until their lips nearly brushed. The King dropped low and swerved away, and the Plague effortlessly spun himself around the slick pole, twining his long body sinuously around it like a coiling snake and seeming to entrance his ‘victim’ with his acrobatic twisting, his beckoning long fingers so inhuman and cold and beautiful. 

 

Padmé looked down at her drink to try to calm her thudding heartrate.

 

“The Dark Side always reveals everything,” the announcer purred. “It calls to you, can you hear it? Will you answer it?”

 

She peeked up. The King had hesitated and now looked away over the crowd, demure and uncertain.

 

“Give in!” Someone in the audience bellowed. Other shushed him hurriedly.

 

Slowly the human advanced on the waiting Muun, shrugging out of the second layer of lush robes as though in a trance, wearing a loose tunic, trousers, and boots underneath. Padmé sucked in her breath sharply when he joined the Muun on the pole, lifting himself on wiry arms and providing a perfect counterbalance to the larger stripper’s extravagant display.

 

The crowd watched spellbound. They moved like true born dancers, never colliding but coming within centimeters of each other as around and around the pole they slid and dived and curved. It was a dance of tentative lovers and daring risk, Padmé realized with a hot blush. Playful teasing, a gentle touch here, a whisper of breath there. The music lowered to a sensual rush of sound, like wind through rushes. The seduction of a Sith…

 

The King finally allowed himself to be caught on the pole near the top, the Plague’s large hands wrapping around his narrow shoulders, lowering him to the stage floor with perfect muscle control and sliding down after him. For a moment they stood in complete silence, chests heaving.

 

Then the music changed. From soft seductive whispers to a triumphant cacophony of sound! The Muun roared in laughter, and the sound was truly frightening. Mina reached over and gripped Padmé’s hand in sheer terrified delight as he stood behind the slim human, dwarfing him, and lifted his left arm, and then his right. The King mimicked him as through invisible strings bound their wrists together.

 

The redhead snarled and flashed bright teeth, head tilting back in exquisite pleasure. The Plague gripped his tunic and tore it from his body with ease, then ran his massive hand down the sharp outline of the fragile throat. An animal tension poured into pale extended limbs, trembling with violent passion.

 

Mina started fanning herself. Padmé noticed in intrigued horror that both pale nipples were pierced with small silver studs. _Did that hurt?_

 

“King of the Beasts!” the announcer shouted over the swell of hard-driving music, and the Plague ripped the King’s trousers away, leaving him only in his knee high boots and a tight pair of equally ornate boxers that hugged his narrow hips and left little to the imagination. He fell to his knees, arms outstretched and teeth bared in a simulation of beautiful agony. The Muun stood behind him, tall and towering and dark, teeth also bared but in triumph, not despair.

 

Padmé couldn’t stop looking, and she couldn’t stop the slow burn in her belly as she watched. She’d never imagined _anything_ like this! She could almost imagine that he was truly an ancient and mystical Sith, accepting the Dark Side to rampage through his body. She saw a small set of three claw-mark tattoos just under his collarbone, the face paint that looked like claws just under his eyes, and shivered. A beast. Yes, but breathtakingly beautiful and raw. And somehow familiar….

 

The music changed, becoming darker and subsiding, and he dropped forward on his hands, staring at the stage floor and breathing heavily. The crowd quieted, waiting. For something. What?

 

His head snapped up. Padmé gasped when bright gold eyes fixed on her. _He looks possessed by the Dark Side!_ She had never been a Force believer before, but now… He stalked forward on hands and knees to the front of the stage, the very edge, where she sat less than a meter from him, and he looked down at her with heavily kohl-rimmed eyes, long red hair curling over one bare wiry shoulder.

 

He extended a thin hand, fingers spread in supplication. He smiled, lips curling up to reveal slightly crooked, sharp white teeth.

 

A v-shaped smile, wicked and promising. And inviting.

 

The rest of the crowd screamed and called to her to take his hand.

 

Padmé’s mind went blank.

 

“Wow!” Mina giggled. “Get a load of those contacts. That’s so hot!”

 

Padmé stared into the eyes that had captured her body and soul. Bright gold, burning and liquid, searing into her flesh like he could see everything about her. It was like looking at a predator who was trying to decide whether or not to eat you. She shivered, and then he blinked, and the moment finally passed and she could breathe again when he slid back up to his knees and folded over backwards, lithe pale body arching up, slender hands clinging to the legs of the tall Muun who had advanced and now stood dramatically over him with outstretched hands.

 

He growled as though the Muun were torturing him, the lights flickered, and most of the men and women in the audience screamed in delight when the special effects came on. It looked like… like lightning had suddenly spurted from the Muun’s hands and grounded itself on the thin body underneath. Padmé gasped in horror and clutched at Mina’s shoulder as the King writhed in seeming pain.

 

“It’s not real!” Mina shouted back, ecstatic. “It’s static electricity or something!”

 

_I don’t like it anyway!_ Thankfully, the lightning stopped, and the Plague stepped back with loud laughter, hands spread wide. The audience ate it up, cheering wildly when the King gracefully swept to his feet and motioned to the edges of the stage. Two small cylinders came flying from the stagehands, the grey haired man and the Zabrak, and he caught them easily in outstretched hands, and then everyone fell quiet with a singular whoosh of breath as the sabers ignited in twin glowing lines of crimson.

 

In the darkness, they seemed alive.

 

He did something with his hands, too fast to see, but the sabers whirled and ended up crossed behind him in a pose that left Padmé completely breathless. A knowing smirk appeared on the thin lips, the wicked smile back in force; his golden eyes flickered off to the left, and then he was moving.

 

The Plague ignited his own saber, a much larger saber, and the three blades crashed together in a sizzle of electricity that left the audience in hysterics. They moved together across the stage, so perfectly synchronized that it looked like they truly wanted to kill each other, that one false move would be the end of everything. Padmé’s breath caught in her throat still.

 

“It’s called Jar Kai!” Mina shouted in her ear. “When he uses both blades like that. Some sort of ancient sword fighting thing!”

 

He was perfect… every move calculated, every twitch of wiry muscle designed to capture excess energy and turn it back on his sparring partner. The Muun was good too, holding his own and bringing the weight of his much taller body to bear.

 

The “fight” ended when the King slid his left leg under the Plague’s and brought the taller humanoid crashing down. He dropped down after him, straddling his waist and crossing the blades over the Muun’s throat.

 

Whistles erupted from the patrons. “Finish him!” Someone screamed.

 

The King glanced over his shoulder, looked directly at her – why at her?! –  and licked his lips.

 

Padmé shuddered, and then she gasped when the King deactivated the blades, leaned in close, and kissed the Plague full on, tongue and everything. All three sabers rolled across the stage, forgotten. Fingers gripped wildly on bare shoulders and throats and wrists.

 

She looked away, sputtering and covering her face in her hands, but Mina cheered wildly along with the rest of the onlookers. Peeking through her fingers, Padmé watched the larger stripper surge up from the floor, catching the King around his slender waist and pulling him flush against his chest, tilting the human’s head back and kissing him more deeply than before.

 

“Ooh,” Mina squealed, “this is it!”

 

_What?! Oh!_ Padmé barely kept a scream from escaping when the Muun’s fingers slid under the waistband of the King’s boxers and tugged them down over the human’s hips. Padmé stared at the smooth expanse of thigh revealed as the undergarment dropped to the stage floor, the slight swell of tight buttocks in profile, his front pressed to the Plague to provide some semblance of modesty. More like a mockery. The King rocked his hips aggressively against the taller male.

 

The audience went wild.

 

“Turn him around!”

 

“We wanna see too!”

 

The bouncers moved closer to the unruly drooling pack, and they quickly quieted. Padmé barely noticed, her eyes fixed on the scene unfolding a few meters away. _Oh no oh no, I don’t want to see, but I want to see, oh help, they didn’t do this in the Jedi Temple-_

 

The Plague winked at his captive audience and guided the King to the floor, turning him artfully toward the back of the stage as he laid him down so that he ended up on his taut stomach, concealed by the stage floor but his perfect ass now on display. The redhead growled up at his powerful handler, and the sound went straight to Padmé’s toes and curled them in her pumps.

 

Pausing a moment to strike a triumphant, garish pose, the Plague knelt over the King and grabbed his firm thighs, forcing them apart, angled so that no one off the stage could see between the human’s legs. No one, Padmé realized, except his fellow dancer who could doubtless see _everything. Oh gods and goddesses!_  

 

“Taken by the Dark Side!” the announcer intoned over the rising drumming music. “Beware all who flirt with Darkness!”

 

Padmé clutched Mina’s hand. “He’s not really going to…?”

 

The lights and music went out with a roll of thunder before she could finish her thought, and the clapping exploded. Padmé breathed a sigh of relief when the lights came back on moments later, revealing both the Plague and the King standing on stage, both quickly dressed again in basic trousers and tunics, heads bowed under black zeyd cloth hoods.

 

Padmé forced her hands together once, twice, and then she was clapping right along with the others. It had been scary, intense, and insanely hot. And she was seriously flustered now. Unlike the muscle-built slow-moving Jedi in the Temple so calm and composed, these Sith were raw and rangy and quick. Savage. Animal like. Unsafe. She could have counted the King’s ribs when he was stretched out on the floor.  

 

“Oh darling,” Mina called to her over the table, laughing herself silly at the dazed expression on her friend’s face. “Just wait until you see the Droid and the King together. You think this was hot? Just wait.”

 

Ignoring her friend’s baiting, she looked at him more closely, certain he was familiar now. Something about the way he was walking to the front of the stage to accept an uplifted credit chip from one of his fans. The fan, a shrieking female, pulled his hood back and his head down for a deep kiss, and he obliged her. Her grasping fingers smeared the claw marks under his bright gold eyes, and when he broke the kiss and turned and looked at Padmé, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

 

She hadn’t seen him in person in two years.

 

_How could it be possible?_

“Sheev…?” she whispered.

 

His eyes narrowed in recognition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Sweet Sith! So many things I want to draw now. And have NONE of the artistic ability to handle it! Waah! xD   
> 2\. I did actually attempt to draw the King, so expect that up on my art collection anytime.   
> 3\. I blame this on Cinnamon_Girl.  
> 4\. I blame this on Cinnamon_Girl.  
> 5\. I am having way too much fun writing this crackfic and really - SOMEONE HELP ME NO NEVERMIND I'M ALREADY AROUND THE BEND...............


	3. Fair Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padme encounters someone in the hallway on her break to the refresher, and..... she completely forgets about the refresher.

The audience cheered and whooped as the two dancers slipped off the stage on the opposite ends, and Mina vied for the title of loudest by the way she whistled and catcalled after… after…

 

Sheev.  

 

Padmé stumbled to her feet and mumbled that she needed the refresher, and badly. Mina cast her a worried look but didn’t protest. When she reached the dark outer hallway, the refresher sign blinking lazily at the far end, the young college student leaned up against the wall and released a shaky sigh. _I’m in over my head. Like seriously. Over my head. Is this a kriffing dream?_

 

How could her friend be the King? A str- a dancer? A Sith? Sith didn’t even exist anymore, some said they never had.

 

She nearly screamed when someone approached in the dark hallway, grabbed her by the arms, and pulled her forward under one of the lights, and then she gasped out in relief. “Sheev!”

 

Sheev Palpatine, four years her senior at twenty-six and her dear friend and mentor in all things politics – and a very sexy stripper, her rebellious mind added before she could stop it – scowled down at her and spoke in smooth Naboo. “Padmé, what are you doing here?”

 

She shook her long brown hair back and dug deep for her dignity, answering in their language. It wouldn’t do for anyone to overhear them. “I could ask you the same question, Sheev. What are you doing here? Why are you dressed like that?”

 

He still wore the loose tunic and trousers and knee-high boots, but he pushed back the hood and blinked at her, pale blue eyes shining down, face scrubbed free of the smudged paint, drops of water still gathered on the tips of his red hair around his narrow face. She tried to avoid thinking about the fact that she had just seen him naked, being handled by another male. Gods, it had turned her on so badly.

 

“Neat contacts back there,” she stammered for a lack of anything else to say. “Gold? Looks good on you.”

 

“We try to make them happy.” His more gentle, familiar smile appeared. Not a predator’s smile like back on the stage.

 

“Why?”

 

He flinched and looked away, dropping his hands from her shoulders in a deep shrug. “It’s complicated, Padmé.”

 

“Too complicated to tell one of your dearest friends?”

 

He spoke without looking at her. “Padmé, you are my friend, but you aren’t entitled to know everything about me. Believe it or not, this is something I had to do, away from home, away from the others. I can’t tell you everything, but you’re going to have to trust me.”

 

“Are you in trouble?” she whispered. No, not Sheev, not her friend. So many questions ran through her mind, not the least of which questioned how she could focus on his words when her body had been newly awakened to a side of him she had never witnessed before. A side of him she wanted to taste. _Stop that, stupid brain!_

 

He smirked. “Not so much that I can’t handle. No one knows me here on Coruscant yet. They don’t allow recordings. There are some things I have to do before I can go back. You shouldn’t be in a place like this, Padmé. You should be back on your college campus, wowing all the starry-eyed freshmen with your democratic know-how.”

 

“Says you!” She snorted and punched him lightly in one shoulder. “Says the one gyrating up on the stage!”

 

“Did you like it?”

 

Oh, how she liked that confident purr in his voice now! Padmé swallowed. “I found it beneath you, Sheev. What would Vidar Kim say? You belong in politics, not on a stripper’s pole.”

 

“It’s an act,” he shrugged. “It’s not forever, just long enough to get what I need. I’ll have what I need soon.”

 

“What could they possibly give you that your unfairly huge family inheritance doesn’t already? Did something happen to your family’s accounts and stocks?”

 

His expression tightened and closed. She had gone too far with her teasing. “I can’t talk about that, Padmé. Some things you aren’t meant to know. Now _I_ know, that’s a shock to your system.”

 

“Hey, I’m not a complete know-it-all, at least not anymore. And that’s not the worst of the shocks to my system.” She used to think of him almost as an older brother, but now, she couldn’t get his lean body, that bare strip of hip and leg, that soft curve of perfect a-” _no!_ \- out of her mind’s eye, and her sisterly feelings for him had disappeared entirely to be replaced with something much more… tangible…

 

Mina was in soooo much trouble for this.

 

Sheev offered a hint of the wicked smile she had seen back on the stage, the one that stopped her heart. “You should go home, Padmé. It’s not safe here for innocent little college girls.”

 

“Or naïve Naboo who want to play with the big boys,” she said back, finally smiling and reaching out to take his slender hands in hers. He was so warm and smooth. He didn’t belong here. She could take him home with her and tell Vidar Kim to keep a closer eye on his mentee and-

 

He leaned a little closer and purred, “Exactly my point…”

 

Padmé flushed red across her entire face. “Sh-Sheev, that’s not fair!”

 

“Hm? You found me out. I’m a ‘Sith,’ Padmé,” he chuckled. “I don’t play fair.”

 

That wasn’t helping her blush, or the tingle low in her belly when he looked at her like that, and suddenly his eyes widened as though he had realized or somehow seen what she was thinking. They mutually dropped their hands apart and looked in different directions. He coughed and twined his fingers together.

 

“Go back to your studies, Padmé. You’re going to need them when you get into the Apprentice Legislature.”

 

“What about you?” He had already spent a year in the program, back in Naboo. “I thought you’d be trying for the Senate by now, or as Naboo’s ambassador. I know you could win it, you’re already getting popular back home.”

 

“It’s not time yet,” he said, and the cryptic lilt he used drove her insane with curiosity. “Just wait, Padmé, I’ve not even started my political career yet, not really. There are things I have to do first. Things have to be set in motion.”

 

“Don’t mess up the democratic system while you’re at it,” she joked, touching his shoulder and trying to ignore the fact that she wanted to touch much more. This was her friend, not a nameless stripper, for Shiraya’s sake!

 

He snorted softly. “Get out of here, my lady. You don’t want to be here for the next show. It gets a lot more interactive. Sith get… scary.”

 

She shuddered at the playful gleam in his breathtaking eyes. There was one teeny tiny problem with that argument, though.

 

She wanted to stay.     

 

“Hey, who’s the new girlfriend?”

 

“I’m not –”

 

“She’s not –”

 

They turned as one toward the new voice, and Padmé’s voice failed her.

 

He was tall, over six feet in height, with sandy blond hair and brilliant blue eyes, powerfully built under a tight white t-shirt and frayed jeans. And a killer smile turned up to full wattage and trained directly on her. Padmé wondered if it were possible to spontaneously combust under such a direct and appraising gaze.

 

Sheev must have wondered the same thing, because he tossed his head back and clarified. “This is a friend, Anakin, from back on Naboo.”

 

Padmé giggled at the slight protective edge in his voice. “Hi, I’m Padmé Amidala,” she said and stuck her hand out, and a massive gentle hand closed over hers as the newcomer shook it.

 

“Are you an angel?”

 

Padme’s giggle came back in force to hide her embarrassment. “Do you always say stuff like that?”

 

Anakin’s eyes raked boldly over her. “Well, only to the ones who deserve it. But hi, Padmé, I’m the Droid around here. You can call me Ani. All my ‘friends’ do,” and he wiggled his eyebrows playfully at her and jerked a thumb at Sheev. “Except him, he insists on calling me Anakin like I’m a kid or something.”

 

“Which you are,” Sheev rolled his eyes.

 

“Force, I’m nineteen already, almost twenty,” Anakin laughed. “You just can’t handle the thought that I can keep your attention and be so young, Mr. Twenty-Six and Already World Weary.”

 

Sheev glared.

 

Padmé’s heart stopped. The two of them… were together? She remembered Mina mentioning a Droid and King act… Oh goddess! She was definitely not leaving, now, even if she had to cover her face the entire time or crawl under the table.  

 

“So… um, how’d you become a Sith, Ani?”

 

He looked at her and laughed. Such eyes! “Oh, that was easy! I used to work for the Temple, actually. You know that place?” At her embarrassed nod, he continued, “I was paired up with Obi-Wan Kenobi, he’s one of the Knights there, we had a great routine and everything, and then –”

 

“Anakin,” Sheev jerked his head up.

 

Anakin quickly stopped talking. He offered an apologetic smile that made her want to melt into his arms. “Sorry, I shouldn’t bore you with the details.”

 

_I’m not bored, believe me._

She forced a wide smile to hide her open-mouthed arousal. Between the two of these lean young men, Padmé could feel the simmering heat just under the surface. It made her want to squirm in the middle and explore.

 

_Get your mind out of the gutter, girl, and get back to Mina before you say something you’ll regret!_

“I-I should probably go.”

 

Anakin tilted his shaggy head. His hair hung in curls down to his shoulders, much shorter than Palpatine’s long tail of soft red hair. What would it be like to curl her fingers in those blond curls, or tug on those silky red locks?   

 

She realized they were both staring at her, eyebrows raised in a perfect mirror of each other’s expressions. Then Sheev sighed, a sigh she knew well, one of fond exasperation. Taking her arm in his, he turned them down the hallway back toward the main part of the club. “Get the costumes ready, Anakin,” he called over his shoulder. The former Jedi entertainer gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

 

“Right. Nice to meet you, Angel!”

 

She didn’t answer, too embarrassed by her daydreaming and the way Sheev’s hand over hers felt on her warm skin. But she was even more startled when they reached the end of the hallway and he suddenly leaned much, much closer, until their lips nearly touched and she wanted to disappear into the wall. He smelled… delicious. He looked like a wild animal so sleek and focused that she forgot to breathe for a moment and felt only the faint puff of his breath on her lips.

 

Almost frightening, that _look_ in his eyes. Almost… hungry.

 

“Padmé, we’re not children anymore,” he whispered. “And this isn’t Naboo, trust me. So I’ll give you a warning for the sake of our friendship. Get out of here. If you stay, I can’t, I _won’t_ go easy on you.”

 

She swallowed a soft squeak when he reached out long, pale fingers and laid them against her cheek. Cool, calculating, promising. “I- but I… Sheev…”

 

He looked up under lowered lashes. “So if you stay, Padmé… be prepared for anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Oh Nos! Poor Padmé’s getting mixed up with all these lovely exotic Sith dancers! What’s a girl to do? Go back to that table, of course!!   
> 2\. Still blaming this on Cinnamon_Girl. xD   
> 3\. I’ll just say this. Padmé is far too trusting of her friend Mina, who happens to know Padmé’s birthday is coming up soon. Birthday people need presents, you know. ;)   
> 4\. You had your warning, Padmé, now you better run! Things might get a bit tense if you don’t. :D


	4. Act 2: "Birth of the Apprentice"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padme sticks around for Act 2, and finds herself wondering just how real some of this all is.

Without even really aware of how she got her legs to move, Padmé stumbled back to the main room of the club. She sank into her seat and avoided Mina’s delicate, raised eyebrows.

 

“Well?” her friend prompted when she remained quiet. “What’s got into you?”

 

Padmé reached for her drink, noting with dismay that her hand was trembling from her recent encounter with Sheev. “Um, nothing. It just took me a little while to find the refresher.”

 

“And I’m a fat wampa on vacation from the frozen tundra,” Mina gestured at her stick thin body. “Padmé, I’m sorry, dear, but you are a terrible liar.”

 

So true. So how was she going to look Sheev in the face ever again after all this? Common sense dictated that she should just get up, gather her things, thank Mina, and run for her life. Unfortunately for common sense, the memory of Sheev’s whispered warning still echoed in her ears, and the ancient stubbornness of her family line surged into full power. He couldn’t get rid of her so easily as all that.

 

Mina was still staring. Expecting.

 

“I’m just not used to seeing… erm, so much happening,” she stammered.  “On a stage.”

 

“You’re such a dear,” Mina smiled all the way through her eyes. “That was only the tip of the iceberg, Padmé. Buck up. Lots of clubs show more than that.”

 

“Oh. So this is good then.”

 

“No, that’s a problem,” Mina grinned. “Take the King, for instance. Nobody’s ever actually seen it.”

 

Padmé felt the roots of her hair go red and burn. “It?!”

 

Mina grinned wider. “Is it easier if I just say his cock?”

 

“No!” Oh Shiraya, she felt like dying just then. Mina didn’t know him, but Padmé knew him all too well. Or at least… she thought she did. But sitting here, talking about Sheev Palpatine like that, like he was a piece of tasty meat – she felt both ashamed and endlessly turned on. “How can you be so businesslike and professional in one moment, and like, well, like this the next?”

 

“Unlike some people, I know how to relax.” Mina patted her hand. “Well, okay then. He doesn’t ever show ‘it’ off, unlike some of the others. The closest I’ve seen is with the Plague or the Droid, and even then he uses them and other props to hide it. His ass though…” she sighed. “I’d give almost anything to get my hands on that pert ass.”

 

Padmé tried to suppress the thought that she agreed with Mina’s assessment. Tried to ignore that this was Sheev they were talking about, Sheev the ultimate fanboy of all things politics, Sheev the serious solitary Naboo, Sheev her friend.

 

“Speaking of perfect things, here they come,” Mina nodded at the stage, and Padmé tried to steel herself. _Be prepared for anything._ She tried _not_ to think about how eagerly her heart thumped in her chest.

 

Sheev arrived on the stage draped in thick black robes that fluttered and almost made him look like he was gliding across the floor. He looked small and sinister under the dim lighting, face concealed completely in the shadow of his large hood.

 

Beside him… Padmé gasped in amazement. A huge droid? A cyborg? No, no it was Anakin, _had_ to be him, standing tall beside his shorter companion and dressed every inch of him in gleaming hard black armor and leather coverings. He wore a terrifying helmet with a flared edge over his whole face, the convex lenses like the eyes of some humongous insect dissecting her and the rest of the audience.

 

This then, must be the Droid. She could see no trace of the friendly, boyish young man from the hallway.

 

They stood together in silence, the Droid slightly to the left and behind the King. The crowd quickly quieted down in anticipation and found their seats. Padmé found herself on the edge of her own. Mina chuckled at her.

 

The lights of the room disappeared save for the one directly over the two ‘Sith,’ and it began.

 

“The relationship between a Sith Master and Apprentice is a delicate blend of absolute trust and complete treachery,” the announcer purred over the loudspeaker. He really did have a nice voice, Padmé noted, even if the words he spoke made little sense. “Now watch as the Master teaches the art of precision. Witness… the Birth of the Apprentice!”  

 

The King moved like liquid mercury, the lightsaber at his belt dropping into his hand and lighting the room up in a harsh red glow as he twirled it between his hands. Ambidextrous, Padmé remembered. Sheev was ambidextrous. And how!

 

The Droid stood unmoving and tall, not flinching when the light drew closer and his ‘master’ began a fast-paced kata of swings and swift steps. The crowd watched spellbound as the blade nipped in and cut a searing line down one thick arm, and the sleeve fell away to reveal an untouched, bronzed, muscular arm.

 

Mina clapped and leaned close. “Some sort of release mechanism. I love the effects in this place.”

 

The announcer called over the applause, “A Droid to all others, but is there a man… beneath the armor?”

 

The lightsaber dipped and slashed, the King spun and danced, hard boots barely clacking on the floor as he moved, and the sounds of the weapon sent shivers down Padmé’s spine, so raw, so visceral even though she knew they were fake. Did the Dark Side have its own IT specialists to keep everything running so smoothly?

 

Piece after piece of gleaming black armor dropped away from the apprentice’s hulking form until only the helmet, cape, trousers, and boots remained. The King slid to a stop behind his solid apprentice, turning off the lightsaber and returning it to his belt. He reached for the broad shoulders and motioned off stage. Two cowled assistants rolled a large medical-grade stretcher bed from the left wing of the stage and brought it close.

 

“The apprentice is forged by the master of the Sith,” the loudspeakers warned as the King guided the Droid down onto his back on the stretcher. There, where the Droid’s face lay out of sight, he leaned over the still figure and drew his hands up the length of him. Mina whistled, and Padmé glared at her. Not now.

 

She wanted to cover her eyes when the King slickly stripped the trousers from his unmoving companion and laid his hands over the tense thighs. After a moment, he moved up, gripping the large helmet and unlatching it with a hiss of escaping air and steam, letting it drop to the floor with a startling clang.

 

The King stared down at his masterpiece and smiled. The crowd waited in complete silence. Even the music had disappeared. Padmé could hear the soft intake of his breath.

 

“My Lord…” he purred into the baited silence, his accent thick and exotic there among the plain-spoken Coruscanti patrons, hood obscuring his face as he hovered over the table, slender fingers splayed over Anakin’s taut body like hooks. Like claws.  

 

Padmé’s heart leaped into her throat.

 

“…Rise.”

 

The King drew his elegant hands up, and the Droid followed him, arching his muscular back and making half the men and women in the room fan themselves in ecstasy. He somehow managed to slide up from the table and land on his feet in one smooth motion, sand pouring into a perfect mold to the appreciative screams of the audience. He tossed his dirty-blonde hair back from his face and showed off a shark’s smile, broad chest and abdominal muscles on full display, hands fisted on his hips in the classic pose of powerful ease, cape blowing in the artificial breeze generated by the side fans.  

 

Mina nearly swooned at the sight of that perfect face, that tiny thong, and those black leather boots.

 

Without warning, he thrust his hips forward, and the audience lost it. Padmé’s mouth went bone dry as the Droid fluidly moved into a twisting dance interspersed with impressive acrobatic feats of backflips, stands, and high-flying kicks. His powerful muscles gleamed under the flashing lights, his shaggy hair whipping the air. Padmé watched him go straight from a high leap into a perfect handstand and wondered: Could people even do that? Or was it some sort of special effect?  

 

“Many abilities come from the Dark Side, some considered to be unnatural,” the announcer teased over the loudspeakers to the impressed sighs of the patrons.

 

For his own part, the King appeared content to stand back and watch, adopting the role of the pleased creator watching his design unfold, but Padmé soon realized that the Droid was carefully synchronizing his movements to the music and a particular pattern on the stage, circling the King and drawing steadily in closer as though fascinated by him, as though trying to impress him, to gain his approval with gestures and motions that progressively grew more erotic.

 

She held her breath when the Droid slid to his knees in front of the King and bowed his head, chest heaving and arms spread wide in supplication.

 

The King smiled down and reached out one hand to card his thin fingers playfully, aggressively through the Droid’s mussed hair. Was it Anakin or the Droid who leaned his head back and groaned in ecstasy? Padmé couldn’t tell, and that alarmed her and thrilled her all at the same time. She still wondered how real the relationship actually was.

 

The King tightened his fingers until the Droid whimpered with need under him, and Padmé’s lips drew back in a sympathetic grimace. Did they really have to be so rough with each other? It was just an act, just a role to play, Sheev didn’t need to -

 

Evidently so. The Droid moved suddenly, launching up from his crouch and tackling the slighter man to the floor, and a vicious struggle for dominance began as the music rose to pounding drums and screeching metal. The King laughed, slippery and quick, and managed to evade the Droid’s slower grabs, but the younger Sith was learning from his mistakes, and the tables finally turned when he managed to catch the hem of the King’s robe.    

 

In a split second, the creation had pulled the creator under him and now pinned him hard to the floor of the stage with his full body weight. He leered down, both large hands full of thick black robes, and when the audience cheered him on, he began to roughly strip them away. The King writhed like a trapped animal.

 

Padmé couldn’t look away as the soft pale expanse of skin slowly revealed itself, winced as the Droid seized the last underlayer of robes and literally tore them off the King’s slender body. The sound of the tearing cloth was clear as it pooled underneath and left him in only his dark undergarment.

 

They stilled for a moment, bronze conquering alabaster, both breathing heavily and eyeing each other with a dark hunger that nearly frightened Padmé. The announcer thundered overhead, “Master and Apprentice, the struggle for power, give and take! But who does the giving, and who does the taking?”

 

“Take him!” A drunken Weequay called to the Droid. “Show him who’s boss!”

 

The Droid waved to the audience member and nodded.

 

The music changed and grew softer, almost like a truce had been called between the masters of darkness. The Droid gently rolled onto his back and pulled his ‘master’ over him until the King straddled his hips. He rocked up against the King, and Padmé blushed when she saw her friend’s kolh-rimmed eyes close in obvious – acted? – pleasure, his thin mouth opening in soft inaudible pants. The Droid thrust again, but this time the King wriggled down the length of him, fingers digging into the waistband of the Droid’s thong and pulling it off his hips and down his powerful legs.

 

He lifted it high, grinned, and threw it into the crowd, causing a riotous clamor to claim the thin scrap of material. The music picked up as though it sensed the growing urgency.

 

From the angle of the patrons, Padmé couldn’t see anything, because the Droid had wrapped his cape up over himself just in time to preserve his modesty, but she gasped when the King settled himself once more over the Droid and the larger man jerked with a desire too real to be entirely faked. The King lifted up as though to climb off, and Padmé choked when the Droid suddenly gripped the King’s narrow hips and slammed him back down.

 

An audible yelp! The King raked sharp claws down the Droid’s powerful chest, who growled loud enough that he could be heard above the pounding music and catcalling audience. Their hips rolled rhythmically together, the Droid taking the lead, setting the relentlessly steady pace.

 

Padmé’s jaw fell open. Had they just…? Surely not! Oh goddess! Of course not, silly her, the King was still wearing his undergarment, but it felt so real! Oh, she would be lucky if she could ever look at her friend without seeing this. She watched them move together, simulating explicit acts that turned her own face flaming red, nearly red enough to match the King’s hair where the Droid had it now wrapped around one powerful fist as he tugged the slighter man down for a kiss.

 

The kiss went deep, proud, possessive. Dangerous.

 

“Didn’t I tell you?” Mina shouted over the racket. “I’m going to need a bath of ice cubes after this.”

 

Padmé didn’t quite tell her dear friend to shut up because she couldn’t peel her eyes away long enough from the sight of the Droid’s tanned strong fingers digging into the pale muscles of the King’s lean thigh, or the way the King smirked at his partner as he writhed on him. She couldn’t remove the image of the Droid’s large sky blue eyes, blown open with obvious desire for his fellow dancer.

 

Did Anakin honestly feel something for him? She looked at Sheev and saw nothing but the King right then, terrifyingly sensual, but looking at the Droid, she could see the young man she met back in the hallway, adoration brightening his gaze and obscuring the overt neediness, but it was there.

 

She shivered when the Droid’s strong hands finally released the King’s hair and slid down his shoulders and sides to curl around the band of the black boxers. He turned his head and grinned at the crowd and waited. It didn’t take long to get a response.

 

“Take it off! Take it off!” Someone chanted from the back of the room, and the cry was quickly picked up by dozens of other patrons. Even Mina joined in the excitement. Padmé only stared at those hands, at the thin trail of red hair disappearing under the waistband. Like a sinuous serpent, the King lowered himself along the length of the Droid, pressing their bodies tightly together, seizing Anakin’s face between his own slender hands and taking him in a long kiss. The Droid surged up. With a single powerful tug, the boxers lay in shreds on the edge of the stage.

 

Padmé didn’t remember shrieking, but she must have, because Mina looked at her worriedly and asked, “Are you okay, dear? It’s all right, it’s all part of the act.”

 

She didn’t answer immediately, because at the sound of her cry both strippers broke the kiss and looked directly at her. Anakin lit up and grinned in a clear effort to comfort her, winking, but Sheev’s eyes narrowed with a subtle and smug challenge, splaying one of his hands on the Droid’s wide chest. _See?_ his smoldering look said. _Don’t step into the gundark den if you aren’t willing to get dirty._

 

At that, Padmé clamped her open mouth shut. She would _not_ be intimidated by her friend. Her completely naked friend who somehow still held all the power in the room, over Anakin, over the audience, over her. How was he doing that?? He finally grinned too, but more wolflike than Anakin’s goofy smirk, and tossed his head in calculated dismissal before leaning down and resuming his erotic attack on his ‘apprentice,' his body fitting perfectly against Anakin's much larger one. 

 

Padmé could feel her cheeks burning, and she couldn't take her eyes off the way Anakin's hands had just dropped to the curve of that perfect ass, but the challenge had been announced, the gauntlet thrown. And damn her to the depths if she gave in to the game. She wasn’t weak, she wasn’t naïve, and it was high time Sheev learned that. Little Padmé Amidala could stand her ground in a rough world just as well as anyone else. Besides, this couldn’t get much worse, right? Right?

 

The stage slowly faded into darkness, leaving only the satisfied applause from the audience to fill her ears. Only the memory of those golden eyes that seemed to glow in the gathering darkness before disappearing like blown out candle flames. She shivered despite her resolve.

 

This was madness.

 

And she wanted more.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Okay, Padmé, time to shift your perspective. She has no idea, the poor dear.   
> 2\. I finally had time to write this week!!! Whoooo! I’m working on several other stories too, one very dark one, so I had to get my fix of CRACK. Sooo much crack!   
> 3\. Using Vader in a strip act is fun, it’s like going backwards with the armor. xD   
> 4\. Can I keep blaming this on other people? xD ;)   
> 5\. Stay tuned for birthday celebrations next chapter, which is mostly written out. :D


	5. Private Audience with His Majesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padme finds out Mina's truly nefarious plan.

Strangely, when the stage lights came back on, the King and the Droid were nowhere to be seen. Instead, several of the stage hands hurried up and collected the credit chips from the floor. They also brought out three tall poles, locking them into place on the stage.

 

“There'll be a break for a little while from the main shows,” Mina told Padmé with a wink as they watched the transformation. “This is to let the dancers rest if they want, and for drinking, individual dancing, private dancing, you know…”

 

Padmé shot her friend a sharp, disapproving look. It was one thing to watch the dancers up on the stage, but to go so far as that? It seemed wrong somehow.

 

Mina tilted her glass back. “Relax, dear. Coruscant’s a liberated city. The Naboo moral police won’t get you here.”

 

She leveled a glare at her friend, but the room was warm and it was always hard to stay upset with Mina Bonteri. The woman had the gift for melting your heart no matter the outrageous things she said, most of them political and some rather scandalous. A lot rather scandalous. Padmé sat back in her chair and eyed the stage when Mina didn’t budge. Two willowy female dancers moved out from the wings of the stage, but Padmé’s eyes were instantly drawn to the one on the left, all curves, spiky black leather, and equally pointed short white-blond hair. The smile the woman wore was positively feral as she paced along the front edge of the platform and drew catcalls from the audience with every swish of her hips.

 

“You’re staring.”

 

Padmé blushed at the nudge from her friend. “I was just… surprised.” Not many strip clubs served with both genders on the same night. It explained the mixed and jumbled audience tonight. Feasts to anyone’s liking. _What am I doing here?_

 

“Maybe I was wrong about the King,” Mina purred and touched her shoulder when she jerked her eyes away. “Kidding, dear. I don’t blame you. That’s the Mistress, and she knows how to get people’s attention. If I swung that way, I’d be throwing my life credits on the stage about now.”

 

“Yeah,” Padmé knew she sounded lame and half stunned. The atmosphere of the audience shifted as the two women stalked the stage. The conversations grew in volume, drink glasses clinked together in celebration, and the background music became a throbbing sensation low in her bones.

 

“I admire her,” Mina admitted, throwing her own drink back. “If I had half her guts to wear the stuff she does, I wouldn’t be sleeping alone in my boring little vanilla relaxa-bed almost every night.”

 

Padmé felt her face getting hotter. “I could never…”

 

“Well, maybe with the right incentive. The right man…?” Mina watched the young college student closely. Padmé could feel that inquisitive, drunk stare boring into her with a calculation that the older woman could never quite conceal. It clicked something in the back of her brain.

 

“Mina….”

 

Complete innocence in a wide smile. Not convincing in the slightest, so she leveled her own glare. Sheev always laughed at that look, she remembered with a twinge and shoved it down deep.  

 

“Mina. What’s going on?”

 

Mina took another long swallow of wine and cheered the blond, sharp-featured female dancer for an acrobatic spin down one of the front poles. “Women’s power, right, Padmé?”

 

“Mina…” she growled a warning. Finally, her friend looked innocently at her.

 

“Okay okay. The gig’s obviously up. Your birthday is coming soon, isn’t it?”

 

“What are you up to?” Padmé asked softly, afraid of the answer and unable to stop herself.

 

Mina grinned like an Arkadian wolf and called the waiter Brendol over. When he arrived, she wiggled her eyebrows up and down and said in a stage whisper, “I’ve got a request to make for a friend.” He accepted her Red Card, studied it, and his eyes widened.

 

“You’ve saved up a lot here, Miss Bonteri.”

 

“For a good reason, I’d like my birthday friend here to meet the King,” Mina said with the smile showing off nearly every tooth she owned. “Up close and personal.”

 

_What?!_ Padmé gasped and tried to kick her under the table. “Mina, no!” Her friend had no idea what she was doing!

 

Mina ignored her and kept speaking to the waiter. “I think she likes him a lot, you know. A private showing, in one of the Red Booths, Brendol. The works.”

 

Brendol mirrored her grin of evil delight. “Of course, Miss Bonteri. I’ll let him know his… services are needed immediately.” He turned to Padmé. “He’ll be right out to fetch you, Miss.”

 

Padmé sputtered wordlessly. The pieces of the whole’s night puzzle began to fit together as she gasped for air. Then she turned indignant blazing brown eyes on her friend. “This was all a front, wasn’t it, Mon canceling her night, you just happening to pick me instead?”

 

Mina preened, drunk and willingly caught. “Your birthday only comes once a year, Padmé, though I bet other things might come more often.” She winked.

 

Padmé groaned and buried her face in her hands. “I have to be dreaming. This is a nightmare!”

 

Mina elbowed her in the ribs. “I’m dreaming right now, because look at that dream coming this way.”

 

She looked and cursed herself for it. Sheev – no, the King – had appeared from the hidden side of the stage and stood talking with the waiter Brendol, shirtless and pale as a ghost under the shifting spotlights, red hair gleaming and tossed over one narrow shoulder. He still wore the dark trousers and shiny boots from the previous act, but nothing else as he nodded to the other man and padded silently in their direction.

 

“Mina, I can’t do this!” Padmé hissed in alarm at the way her body tightened at his approach, the way she felt a slippery ache start somewhere deep in her belly. This was her friend, not a birthday toy.

 

Mina giggled, “You don’t have to do anything, Padmé dear. You just sit back and let him take care of everything for you.”

 

She couldn’t say another word, because the King had arrived. He looked down at them both, a faint wry smile curving his mouth. “Almost someone’s special day, is it?”

 

Oh, he knew, all too well. He got her a birthday present every year back on Naboo, without fail. Even when he lived long-distance from her. Exquisite stationary, exceptional law books, delicious teas. Things a respectable Naboo friend did. Not… not this.

 

Padmé swallowed at the drawling Naboo accent, much thicker than he normally displayed. The foreign bit got most girls going, Padmé was sure of that just by looking at the way Mina was eyeing him like a fresh piece of steak. It only made her ache for the purity of their language together, true Naboo, home and hearth, and fire and silky skin pressed against the line of his… She froze, certain he would see her blushing. Certain he could somehow, impossibly hear her traitorous thoughts.

 

“Dear?” Mina said again.

 

“I-I’m sorry, my mind wandered,” Padmé stammered, her eyes unable to look away from the three jagged claw marks tattooed on his chest. She didn’t dare look at the silver studs. _Not there, mind, please not there._

 

“Can’t blame you,” Mina smirked. “Take care of her, please, King.”

 

“Oh…” he grinned down at the older woman. “I’ll treat her like royalty, have no fear.”

 

Her turncoat friend giggled and hid her face behind her hand and the glass of wine, and the King turned fully to Padmé and stretched out a hand, palm up. She hesitated. Go home, this wasn’t, this was Sheev, this…

 

_Don’t be afraid._

 

“I’m sorry, did, did you say something?” she asked, startled by the dark purr in her ear. 

 

“Right this way… Miss….”

 

Somehow, her hand ended up in his, warm and dry and soft, and he pulled her gently from the chair to follow him to the opposite side of the room from the entrance, where a series of cordoned-off booths with rich red curtains waited. He parted one side and motioned her in.

 

Padmé took a deep breath. _We’re going too far, who will catch us if we fall?_ But still, she stepped inside, into the darkness.

 

He carefully pulled the lush curtains closed after following her in, and Padmé could see the dim outlines of the patrons and dancers as they moved around the stage and floor.

 

“Can, can they see us?” she asked timidly, taking a seat in the center of the circular booth and settling her hands in her lap like a proper lady. Perhaps if she pretended this wasn’t happening, it wouldn’t be. Silliness, complete silliness, she shook her head, when every part of her body screamed for this new reality.

 

The King smirked. “One-way curtains, we can see and hear out, but they can’t see or hear us quite so easily. Of course… the technology’s not perfect yet… if things get too loud, perhaps.” He winked one golden eye at her. “That wouldn’t happen, would it, Miss… Amidala?”

 

Padmé shivered at the rush of her name on his lips and swore to stay completely silent, watching the wiry muscles shift in his pale shoulders and then looking down at her feet as he finished securing the booth. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening, that the King was alone with her, about to give her a private performance. She’d never… What happened in a private performance?

 

Oh… she was about to find out. The music started again somewhere overhead, low and breathy, heady like a fine wine. The sound drew her gaze from the toes of her shoes to his lean figure.

 

The King – no, she couldn’t think of him as Sheev right now, not at all, not for her own sanity, dears gods above and below – came forward, a sinuous serpent wrapped in a haze of pleasure, his gaze pinning her in place. She eyed the slender fingers as they toyed with the shaak leather ties of his trousers.

 

She couldn’t help but think of him as Sheev. She stammered his name. “Y-You don’t have to…”

 

Before she could protest any further, he offered a smile that nearly stopped her heart. “Maybe, maybe not. But you’d enjoy it, wouldn’t you? I told you I wouldn’t go easy on you, Padmé… If you can’t take the heat… then why did you stay?”

 

She failed to answer his challenge. _I can’t tell him the truth. What would he think of me, that I wanted something like this? What do I think of myself?_

No time to think at all! He rolled his hips in slow motion, such a smooth, captivating half circle, and undid the final ties with agonizing slowness and pushed them down to the floor. He straightened, and Padmé couldn’t look away from the soft thin line of red hair that began just under his navel and trailed out of sight below the band of his tight boxers, or the faint bulge that made her simultaneously blush and pant a little for air like a drowning woman.

 

The King stared down at her, eyes once again lined in perfect thick kohl, and he looked so wild, so different from the friend she knew that she had to be dreaming. This couldn’t be Sheev…

 

She squeaked when he moved closer in a dancer’s loose, perfect glide, shrinking into her chair and eyeing the exit sign over the far door through the thick gauze of the booth’s curtains, but she couldn’t have run if she wanted to, because her muscles had disintegrated into hot mush under those glowing eyes.

 

The music drummed harder, and he circled her lazily like a feline predator circles a wounded calf. Just then, his fingertips brushed her hair, and she bleated for mercy, watching his thin lips curl back to reveal sharp white teeth. By all the gods and goddesses, he looked like he wanted to devour her whole! Padmé felt herself growing wet down below, and she pressed her thighs together tightly. _No, no, not here…_

 

Somewhere out in the main room, she could hear Mina laughing and encouraging one of the other dancers, but Padmé could only focus on the fact that the King was moving again to the front, sliding down to kneel at her feet and running slender hands up her calves to her knees. The young woman could barely breathe for the sudden strangle of pure lust in her throat, and the fear of what she wanted to do to him. Years of friendship and she had never seen him in anything less than collared shirts and expensive suits. Now he was so lean, wiry and pale in the dim lighting, fingers resting against her pebbled skin just beneath the hem of her dress.

 

He tilted his head up, exposing a fragile line of throat and his thin torso, and Padmé gasped when one of his hands caught hers and guided her shaking fingers from his chin down over his throat, over the three claw marks just under his collarbone, and low enough that Padmé lost her courage and jerked her hand back as though burned when her fingertips caught the cold brush of a silver stud.

 

He grinned at her. “Having second thoughts, are we, my brave little tusk-cat? Are you still only a cub?”

 

“No…”

 

He licked his lips with a long wet tongue and purred like the very animal they imagined together. “Good. I don’t play with cubs.”

 

She bit her lip. Hard. Looked away, tried to focus on the shadows of the dancers out on the stage, but his hands tightened on her thighs and gently pried them apart until Padmé was certain he would be able to see the evidence of her excitement on her panties, they _had_ to be soaked through, but he only shifted closer until he crouched between her legs, touching her nowhere but at the knees to keep her spread and ready. Padmé gripped for something, anything!, and found the edge of the seat. Her knuckles turned an instant white.

 

Still, he did nothing but move his body in soft waves, timed with the music like a charmed and deadly snake, and a needy whine bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her. Padmé blushed at the knowing tilt of his red eyebrows. The King might have been the one kneeling, but his subject was ready to capitulate. Entirely. The decadent music slithered through her ears and into her bones, whipping up a throbbing ache that Padmé never imagined could be so… so… intense. It was like… like they were already… oh... oh...

 

She wanted nothing more than those fingers sliding up her thighs, that mouth claiming hers, his narrow hips slotted between her wide ones and pressing her open until she screamed. Padmé jerked when one of his hands finally did slip up her flesh but moaned in disappointment when the pressure disappeared just before he reached the heated juncture, the apex of her need.

 

“Noooo…” she whimpered. _No, come back! I need-_

 

He chuckled, and the sound ripped through her. No one else could have heard it over the driving music, the soundproofing, the sound was only for _her._ Padmé nearly sobbed as he stood in a swift dancer’s rise and curled around her chair as though nothing had just happened between them. He no longer touched her, just teased her endlessly, wrapping the ends of his long hair around his fingertips as though he were playing with her dark locks instead, leaning in as though he meant to kiss her and never actually going so far but to brush the air she breathed.

 

She could lunge forward, sink her grasping, greedy hands into smooth firm sides and pull him down over her, and only the small part of her mind that remained free of the animal desire kept Padmé from doing just that. He did this for anyone who gave him enough money, she tried to tell herself, to remain calm. The King was a stripper. This was a job. Only a job.

 

But the King was also her friend… who had never looked at her before like he was looking at her now, or doing the things he was doing now. She sucked in a sharp breath when he ran his slender long fingers over his own body, like she imagined that he could do to her. Frozen, she watched the talented digits slide over lean muscle and catch on the silver studs in his pale nipples, watched his lips part with an invisible sigh as he played with himself openly, tweaking the small hardened nubs, watching her in return under lowered lids.   

 

Always so watchful, so calculating. She shivered.

 

Padmé’s hands finally moved on their own, seeking to assuage the pressure over the thin material of her dress. She couldn’t find it in herself to be embarrassed any longer. Only desperate.

 

The music was reaching its climax, and his hands moved down to his boxers, and Padmé felt the red hot wave flush down to twist her toes in sheer delight. His fingers crept sinuously under the thick band, head tilting back with the low growl of a wild beast, sliding the undergarment down over his hips, and Padmé fought a scream of raw disappointment when he turned from her at the last moment and showed her the smooth tightness of his ass instead, firm and symmetrical muscles and quite honestly the best ass she’d ever seen before…

 

_Not that you’ve seen that many, Ms. Prude, at least in person and off the holocams. But this is making up for everything…._

 

Padmé whimpered and her coherent thoughts broke down as she watched him roll his hips and shimmy completely out of his boxers, bending gracefully to pluck them from the floor and offering her a dim quick glimpse, a vague shadow between his legs in the soft lights and nothing more. “Please…” she begged and clapped her free hand over her mouth even as she ground helplessly against her other hand.

 

Please what? Did she want him to touch her? Fuck her? Yes! Yes…. Please. No, this was her friend. Her friend… who made her want to forget everything but the sensation of his eyes on her.

 

As though he heard her heated thoughts, the King half turned and looked over his narrow shoulder, and the triumphant smirk on those thin lips nearly brought her over the edge. Had she said something out loud? Padmé gasped, suddenly aware that his gaze had dropped to the hand pleasuring her core, bunching the folds of her dress between her fingers. She found she couldn’t stop even then, the slow motions of her fingertips rubbing against her covered clit.

 

_What is he doing to me?!_

 

His smile widened, sharper. Hungry. Merciless. Gods, she wanted him on her with that mouth, that sinful tongue, that hidden part of him that would fill her so well- she just knew!

 

“Are you ready for anything?” he growled. ‘You can’t go back from this, you know…”

 

The vibrations of that voice sent shivers up and down her spine in convulsing waves.

 

“Y-yesss…” She nodded, once, twice, three times, couldn’t stop nodding, oh she shouldn't have drunk so much, and then he was turning, and thank Shiraya that he held the boxers loosely in front of him, covering just enough that Padmé could focus on how his lips were abruptly centimeters from her own, his breath mingling with hers.

 

For a moment, she thought he might kiss her.

 

“Too bad ‘anything’ costs extra,” he purred, flicked his long tongue out and licked at the corner of her mouth, and then he was gone, a silent shadow slipping out the small opening in the private booth’s curtains and disappearing down the hall.

 

The music trailed away into silence.

 

Padmé moaned and stuffed her free hand in her mouth to stop the pleading cry that would have surely followed him out of the booth.

 

She was going to murder Mina for this when they escaped this place.

 

This delicious nightmare from which she never wanted to wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Happy early Birthday, Padmé! What some of us wouldn’t give to be in your shoes….  
> 2\. Forget King of the Beasts. Sheev is King of the Tease! xD xD  
> 3\. Can we gang up and kidnap Padme and take her place? Who’s with me? Sheev will probably kill us for messing with his girl, but hey, it’s worth a shot.  
> 4\. Padme’s hooked, people. Just wait til Anakin gets in the game too… xD :D  
> 5\. Still blaming this on certain people, just sayin’. ;)


	6. Chance Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padme runs into a few familiar faces while out on the town, and seizes the opportunity to get to the bottom of this mess.

Padmé Amidala didn’t know how she made it out of the club that night (or the silent red booth), only that her heart had been pounding the whole time, and Mina Bonteri had finally noticed her discomfort. Reluctantly her friend paid Brendol the waiter for their surprisingly extensive tab, and Mina drove Padme back to her dorm room. Well, technically not the drunken Mina, but the engaged autopilot on the convertible’s AI program. Padmé huddled in the backseat and buried her face in her hands as Mina watched worriedly over the seat.

 

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” she finally asked.

 

Padmé shook her head as she jerked up. “No!” She forced a deeper breath. “No, he didn’t hurt me. I must have drunk too much, I’m just… dizzy.”

 

_He would never hurt me. He just did… something… to me._

 

That something frightened her in a way that physical harm really couldn’t. Padmé had done her share of political protests and debates even as a college student, earning vague threats and people looking to bully and intimidate her into silence. She knew as a future politician, she could face death threats or even assassination attempts. She had a boyfriend too not long ago, Rush Clovis, who could be unpredictable and sneaky, and she even had a stalker once as a freshman. The restraining order had made her feel better, but physical discomfort, Padmé knew.

 

This… she didn’t. The flutter in her belly, the way the look in his eyes quickened her breath. Rush had never done that to her. Physically, Sheev changed little in the two years since she had seen him, still lean and wiry and graceful, still that crooked smirk and those unruly locks of bold red hair she used to push back from his pale eyes when she leaned over the desk. Yet somehow, this time she noticed the slender long fingers in a new light – so sensual – the pale skin – so soft, so _much_ – the eyes themselves – so bold….

 

_You’ve sure never seen him like_ that _before,_ her mind supplied, and the blood rushed back into her cheeks. Mina clucked in drunken sympathy.

 

“I don’t remember you drinking that much, dear.”

 

“You know I don’t hold it that well,” Padmé looked out the window at the passing buildings and sights. Thank Shiraya Mina was too drunk to argue. The older woman merely nodded and slid down in her comfortable seat. Slowly they made their way back into the more reputable section of Galactic City, back to the University of Coruscant, where Mina insisted on taking her back up to her dorm room and settling her in for the night, though Padmé ended up supporting her friend more than she leaned on her.

 

Once Mina departed for her own apartment, Padmé slipped into her nightgown and under the thick, warm covers of her bed. Her roommate already lay fast asleep on the other side of the tiny room, so she tried to stay as quiet as possible.

 

She could hear her breathing, fast and stunned even then. 

 

“What happened?” she whispered into the still air.

 

xxx

 

_Sheev,_

_I think maybe we should talk about this week. I don’t know what to say, but I’m worried about you. This isn’t who you have to be, if there’s a problem with your family or you need money or something, House Naberrie can help you. That’s what friends are for. It’s been so long since we’ve just sat and talked. Two years since we saw each other, can you believe it? I could use a little advice on my next intergalactic law exam too._

_Your friend,_

_Padmé_

 

xxx

 

Had he disconnected his chat? Or was he simply avoiding her? Padmé mumbled an apology as she bumped into another upperclassman in the main hall of the political science wing. Three days since she sent the message, and no reply. She couldn’t work up the nerve to go back to that… place, yet, but she couldn’t just abandon her friend and mentor with no questions asked. What if he was in trouble? He seemed… okay.

 

_More than okay, he was… wild. Beautiful. Free. The way he moved…._

Padmé gritted her teeth as she turned off down a side hallway. How could he do this to her? How could he just dance in front of her like they hadn’t known each other all their lives, like he hadn’t come to her house so many times and helped her study for tests and talked about philosophy and dreams and hope… Like she hadn’t hugged him two years ago and told him to take care of himself out there in the big scary world.

 

He laughed then, light and amused.  

 

Just how long had he been stripping down to nothing for screaming audiences?

 

She stopped clenching her teeth. At this rate, she would need new dental work. Padmé dropped off her proposal with Professor Thesme and retraced her steps down the long hallway.

 

Padmé needed answers, and there was no easy way to get them.

 

Or so she thought.

 

xxx

 

Two days later, just when Padmé was about to throw in the proverbial towel and return to the Dark Side to seek out her friend, she heard a distant shout of greeting. Something about the voice sounded familiar.

 

Padmé looked up, stunned, when she spotted Sheev across the street from her favorite salon, dressed casually in a high-collared overtunic that concealed most of his long red hair and neck, and tailored trousers and boots. Anakin stood beside him, more outlandishly dressed in a leather jacket over a sleeveless white shirt and frayed pants and boots. They waved. Well, Sheev waved. Anakin tossed his dirty blond hair and pinned her to the sidewalk with an inviting smile. He had been the one to call to her.

 

She plucked up her courage. This was what she wanted, and it was still Sheev, her friend and college mentor. Just because he had nearly… uh, anyway, he was her friend, and she needed those answers. Padmé looked both ways and then crossed the street, feeling her lips part in a bright, shy smile.

 

“Hi,” she ventured once she was within hearing range.

 

“Hi, Angel,” Anakin grinned. “You’re looking good today.”

 

Sheev smiled more slowly, more reserved. He had always been that way, and now in the daylight and warm sun she couldn’t even imagine him up on the stage, or… or lowering over her body to slide his bare skin against hers… _Oh now stop it,_ she scolded herself. “Thank you,” she smiled brightly at the taller man. “I didn’t expect to see you guys out here.” _Where do you think they go, into coffins during the day?_

 

Anakin winked. “We were getting our hair done.”

 

Padmé’s mouth fell open. “Really?” Was he joking with her?

 

Sheev rolled his pale blue eyes and shook his head. “No, he’s just teasing you. Anakin thinks he’s the galaxy’s gift to women.”

 

Thinking about the young stripper’s body several nights ago, Padmé wondered just how true this was. She dared a faint smile at her friend. “So… what are you really up to then?”

 

Sheev tilted his head to the right, long red hair neatly pinned back in the most current Naboo fashion. “We just came from the security station.”

 

Her heart dropped. “What?”

 

Her fellow Naboo smirked. “We weren’t in trouble, Padmé. Anakin just got his passport updated. He’s now cleared to travel to Naboo and the Neighbors.”

 

She thought of the ring of countries tucked around Naboo’s sides and smiled hesitantly. “I guess congratulations are in order then. Have you ever been out of Coruscant?”

 

Anakin nodded. “Yeah, but nowhere much good. The dead end of the world.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Tatooine,” he grimaced and shrugged.

 

“Oh? I’m not very familiar with that country,” she admitted after a pause, noticing Sheev’s hooded glance her way.

 

“Not much to remember about it, just sand, sand, and you guessed it, sand,” Anakin grinned.

 

Padmé couldn’t help it. She laughed, more nervously than anything else, but the tall young dancer was charming in his own way. Anakin had his powerful body angled toward her, all bright interest and reminding her of a young freshman in the way his eyes twinkled with easy happiness. Those shoulders looked like they could lift-

 

“That sounds kind of… dry. I’m sure it comes with its own rugged beauty, though.”

 

“That’s what everyone says, before they visit.”

 

They laughed again together, the tension beginning to ease. Anakin possessed a natural talent for making her laugh, it seemed. Not unlike Sheev…. She turned to her friend. “So… um, it’s been a while.”

 

He nodded, and in that moment it felt like nothing had changed between them. “It has, but you look well.”

 

“You too,” she didn’t want to think too deeply about how he looked... or how _good_. Ever since the Dark Side, she couldn’t get the image of his toned, lithe body out of her mind’s eye. She remembered seeing him once before, when their families had gone on a vacation to the summer beach homes back in southern Naboo. She’d been thirteen then, and he had been seventeen, hanging out with the older local teenagers, and she recalled the alien thrill of interest watching her friend wade out of the ocean after a swim, warm water streaming off lean muscles… a quick shake of beautiful shaggy red hair…

 

She shook it away then; he was her friend, as dear as a brother to her, and just as close since she had no blood brothers of her own. It proved a fairly easy task to bury the feelings because he was always aloof enough  to make her think there was never a chance for them, always so proper and distant, quietly tolerating the chaperone once she had turned sixteen and he visited her on his breaks from college in Theed.

 

He cleared his throat, and Padmé blushed when she realized how long she had been staring at him. “Oh! Um, you’ve been up to a lot since we talked last.”

 

Oh no, bad choice of words. She lowered her gaze.

 

The soft chuckle reminded Padmé of home, home and the shadows of a dark booth. Sheev stepped around Anakin and stepped closer. “It’s true, much has happened. I was surprised to see you… _around_. How is university treating you?”

 

“Very well,” she said, uncertain why her voice dropped lower as he stopped a small distance away. She peeked up at him. “Junior year is better than I could have imagined, and I even have time for a part time job now, on the side. I work at Dex’s Diner.”

 

His pale blue eyes flickered. “A side job? At a diner?”

 

She recognized the Naboo aristocratic disdain instantly. He thought it was beneath her, after what she caught _him_ doing? She swallowed down the indignation and cleared her throat. Most of her friends thought the same as he did, she couldn’t blame him for his upbringing. “Well, I’ve always wanted to support myself and not just live off the Naberrie fortune. I never wanted that. You know that.”

 

Anakin’s ears perked up. “Naberrie fortune?”

 

Sheev eyed him in half-serious warning, then turned his attention back to Padmé and offered a quick nod. “Of course, I’ve not forgotten that. Your father was always good about modeling his values. It’s…” He paused. “Honorable.”

 

He wanted to say more, that much was clear to Padmé as his thin lips pressed together in a firm line, but she knew he valued her privacy and his own. Anakin watched them curiously, lazily. She should say something.

 

“Well, honorable or not, it pays the bills on the side.”

 

Anakin laughed at her weak attempt at a joke. “We get that. Do you work tonight?”

 

She shook her head.

 

“We don’t either,” Anakin smiled, broad and confident, and then grunted when Sheev shoved an elbow back into his ribs. The motion was so smooth, Padmé almost missed it as she watched Anakin card his fingers through his shaggy hair. They appeared well connected to each other…Another piece of this massive puzzle. When had Anakin Skywalker entered the orbit of Sheev Palpatine’s life?

 

“So, what do you say to coming home with us?” Anakin grinned, dropping his hand to his side as he noticed her stare. “Share a few drinks? I’ve got some stuff that would take hair off a Wookie.”

 

“You live together?” she asked before she could stop the words.

 

“We share rent on an apartment, it’s more affordable that way,” Sheev spoke quickly, but Padmé saw the gleam in Anakin’s eyes as he looked down at his shorter companion. So they shared the apartment, and what else?

 

“You two could catch up, it sounds like you have a lot to talk about,” Anakin added hopefully. “And I can be the entertainment if things get too boring.”

 

Padmé didn’t try to stop the jolt of delight. She should turn around, go back to her dorm, but here was the moment she had been waiting for, the chance to get the truth from her dear friend. If she had any chance of getting him out of this mess, it was now. She looked to Sheev, who appeared to be tensely awaiting her answer, eyes fixed on her delicate face.

 

“I suppose one small drink wouldn’t hurt,” she replied at last and felt the cotton invade her mouth when Sheev’s lips parted in a genuine smile.

 

She _would_ get to the bottom of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Okay, it's been a while since I've updated, apologies peeps, there's been a lot going on, and work has been murder this month. Hopefully now I have a chance to do some serious updating.   
> 2\. Padme's getting in over her head.   
> 3\. Sheev is very conflicted, and Anakin is loving life as usual. xD   
> 4\. Prepare for much, much more of this AU coming soon to an account near you. :D

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Keep the fun backstage.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10537575) by [Cinnamon_Girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamon_Girl/pseuds/Cinnamon_Girl)




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